


Breathe into me

by lyonessheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boggarts, Curse Breaker Harry Potter, H/D Pottermore Fair 2015, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Minor Narcissa Black Malfoy, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Sad Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyonessheart/pseuds/lyonessheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco can barely breathe and Potter could never care, or can he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe into me

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken the title inspiration from the song "Barely breathing" from Duncan Sheik
> 
> "Cause I am barely breathing -And I can't find the air  
> Don't know who I'm kidding, Imagining you care"
> 
> I have to thank my betas DIg and Kiss who have helped me both, to get this story where it is now. I hope you like what I did with the prompt.
> 
> For [Prompt #103](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oKxFrF86d2c3FuVesbbG1NW8mLM0kphzpOwJLy225kY/edit).

When his mother comes out of the room, she is shaking, and as close to tears as he has ever seen her. He doesn't need to ask what she has seen, what is acrid smoke to him, to her it is a special sense of coppery smell. He is not vain enough to imagine what her boggart might look like, even though he knows. Her almost tears and the way she clings to him every time she attempts to take this god forsaken piece of magic on, tear another piece of his hide away from him and he hates.

He knows in theory that a boggart is born from fear, created by the terror the occupants of a house have experienced, and that it feeds of the sadness permeating the air. It won't actively harm them, at least he thinks so, but everytime he opens the room and is confronted with smoke and fiery beasts swallowing the scream of a friend, he feels his heart stutter.

Draco slams the door shut wishing fervently that memories had doors to be locked as well. The war is gone and still it haunts him. The Manor of his childhood has disappeared, replaced with this gloomy old building that withstands any attempt at brightening it. No matter how often he repaints the walls magically, with the colours his mother loves: mint, peach, and lavender, come morning they have returned to a drab version of themselves.

At least the most evil curses have been removed in their attempts to restore the Manor to its former glory. Draco is tired though, sometimes it feels as if the very stones are urging him to leave. More than once he has wanted to, but then he thinks of his mother and her magic being restricted as it is. She would have to give up her home and Draco shudders to think of the reception she would experience in the outside world. So he grits his teeth and continues to repaint the walls day after day, carry out repairs and hope.

There isn't much else left to do for him. But what he encounters beyond that door has sprung straight from his nightmares. The fiery maws snapping for him and the scream that is cut short abruptly. Draco doesn't cry but he tastes bile once more.

Such a simple spell could ease his suffering and here he is unable to actually cast it. His attempts over the last few weeks have proven futile. Every time he goes to face this thing he ends up needing a calming draught and chamomile tea.

Today, he shakes even more and all of that because of a simple fucking owl. Draco is furious. When he steps into his room, the offending scroll still lies there. He picks it up and reads through it once more.

_“Hello Malfoy,_

_Your mother has informed me that you are experiencing issues with the renovation of Malfoy Manor. Since she implies that it might be too much for you, and has requested for me to help, I'll be coming by in two days time to check, what the problem is. If it is a curse I can help you._

_Regards_

_HP”_

The letter is so crumpled by now that Draco gives up. There is no sense in arguing. Mother has called Potter and thus he will arrive, but Draco will be damned if Potter will find a lot to fix. They are Malfoys after all. It doesn't mean much anymore, but it is all that Draco has left to hold on.

\-----------------

The Manor feels off. There is no other way to really describe the vibes that Harry receives once he has recovered from Apparating to Wiltshire. If he didn't know any better, he would say the house is depressed. Even when they got dragged into the Manor it looked better than it looks now. The roses are drooping as if weighed down by rain and the leaves are wilting. Maybe the dark taint has affected the soil, as well.

Not only does the Manor look off, Harry almost recoils as he sees his former rival, Draco, who looks wan. Angles accentuated by the shadows under his eyes. His hair is longer than he has ever seen it, in need of a cut and he has lost weight. Still Harry tries to be polite and attempts a friendly by greeting. “You look...”

“Like shite, I am well aware of that fact. Thank you very much.”

\-----------------

Draco is in no mood to play nice. He woke up to see all of the colours bled out once more and he feels defeated. Potter is rendered speechless and steps up to him. Trying to be polite probably, but the words spill out of Draco's mouth before he can rein them in. He needs the truth out there, doesn't want to play pretend with Potter, not with the one man who has never catered to his vanity.

“Don't try to cover the fact that I look horrible. I can stand the truth, not much else left, is there?”

\-----------------

Harry feels the words wash over him like acid. For a change, the vitriol is not directed at him but the desperation ringing in Draco's voice makes his skin crawl, so he indulges his former rival.

“Well I was going to say that you look like you could use some rest, but what you said fits as well.” Harry steps around Draco and walks through the Manor rooms. The house is bleak. Narcissa had written that Draco was working on the renovations, and as far as Harry can see, he has done well with the limited magic at his disposal.

\-----------------

“You have done a great job so far.” Potter doesn't sound mocking and Draco looks at the earnest face for the first time. Potter has grown up, his face without any softness but his eyes still the same brilliant green.

“Yeah right.” Draco knows that he sounds tired.

“No I mean it. As far as I can see, you have cleared the worst curses already.” Potter is casting diagnostic spells non verbally. Draco only sees the wand twitch once in awhile and the frown on Potter's face grows more and more pronounced. When they get closer to the room that makes Draco want to give up most of all, he halts.

“I can't go in there.” Sounding insecure and hating every moment of it, Draco turns away.

“The magic in there feels off.” Potter states it matter of factly and Draco stops in his tracks.

“What?” Confusion is evident in his voice because Potter clarifies more.

“The readings that I am getting back, indicate that whatever is in that room is not what it is usually. Do you know what this is supposed to be?”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat is difficult, but Draco manages to inform Potter of the inhabitant of the  _merlinforsaken_ room.

“I think it is a boggart. But it is a strong one.”

“I see.” Potter nods “I will need to research this further. Is there any place that you can go to while I work on the Manor?”

“Potter, if there were any other option, do you think I would stick to a house that seems to hate us?” And really how dense can a Gryffindor be?

“Right, well let me see if I can find a way to get you away from this gloom for a while.” With these words, Potter strides away, towards the room where Draco knows his mother to be, but he doesn't follow. He leaves the house and goes out into the gardens, the only place he can breathe easier.

He doesn't know how long he has been sitting staring unseeing over the lawn, when a hand touches his shoulder. His mother's voice reaches his ear, informing him that they will be paying a visit to her sister Andromeda and her grandson Teddy.

“Mr Potter, has asked me for free reign of the Manor for today. He would like to search in the library for more information.”

And why do we have to leave?” Draco doesn't understand. Potter will not have access to all of the rooms if no Malfoy is present. “I think it would do you good to see something else, but I will stay here in the gardens. He needs access to all of the resources and you know as well as I do that the Manor is finicky to say about others being present.”.

And so it is Mother who leaves through the main fireplace with Potter, while Draco is pacing the corridors until his return. He instructs the portraits to be polite, looks into the library and checks on the fireplace, since it wouldn't do to have Potter freeze. Just before he can begin to question his sanity, the fireplace spits Potter out in a shower of soot and ash. He looks hilarious, but Draco cannot even muster a smirk.

“Do you want to wash?” Potter starts at the question, but nods after short consideration.

“Yeah, it would be nice to clean up.”

It is strange to walk alongside Potter, knowing that they have never managed to be civil for any amount of time, but Draco is beyond caring. If Potter can fix the Manor so that Draco's mother can sleep better at night, he will even be grateful to the man. He shows him the guestrooms and mentions offhandedly that Potter could stay in them while he is here. Although why anybody would want to stay in a house that reeks of despair is beyond Draco's imagination.

“I'll be out in the gardens. So you can have free reign of the Manor and still have a Malfoy present. Otherwise some of the books in the library won't open for you.” Draco turns to head outside when Potter's voice holds him back.

“Thank you, Draco. I appreciate the hospitality. I will find you later?” Potter looks at him again with big green eyes, and Draco can only nod.

He walks outside, wondering when life became so complicated  _again_ that he has to depend once more on Potter to make it bearable. Even though, deep down he knows that he was headed that way, ever since the events on the Astronomy Tower.

\----------

Harry cannot figure Draco Malfoy out. He stands under the spray of the shower, washing soot and ash out of his hair and reflects on the conversation they'd had, when Harry wanted to send him away with his mother to visit Andromeda.

“I know you mean well, Potter but I have to remain here with you.” Draco states it matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument and still Harry tries.

“Why? You really could do with a change of scenery and Andromeda would like to meet you as well.” Harry wants Draco to have a break, but the stubborn git fights him.

Draco musses his hair, unknowing that he's doing so, and looks straight at him. It is unnerving to see the grey eyes so blank, devoid of the fire that Harry always associated with  _Draco Malfoy_ .

“The Manor won't cooperate with you. Doors won't open, books will remain closed. It's been that way ever since Father's been gone. I must remain close by. You have the house to yourself, but I need to be on the grounds. Take Mother to see Aunt Andromeda and Teddy and tell them I would like to meet them one day. But not today.”

And that's that. True to his word, Harry doesn't see a hair of Draco when he enters the library. The fire is roaring and still the room feels chilly. He starts sifting through books, reading up on sentient buildings and eventually, forgets the time .

Unaware of how long he's been here, still, he's certain it's been a few hours, Harry's been unsuccessful in finding anything. He's looked at several pages, but nothing, not even a hint of a curse appears that would make sense. He continues to plow through the texts. Who knows where the ancient Malfoys have noted it down. Since Harry knows his business well and this here—it feels personal. He refuses to let the family down. 

“You won't find anything in these books, young gentleman.” Harry doesn't know immediately who is speaking to him, but realises that the house-elves have lit candles and his eyes are gritty. There's a sandwich deposited at his elbow and it looks great; after looking around furtively, Harry tucks in. This will tide him over until breakfast, especially if he stays the night here. He turns back to the books, when he hears the voice again. “I've just said, you will not find anything in these books.”

Harry looks up and around as his eyes swipe over the gilded picture frames, but he can't see anyone, not even a house-elf or a ghost. Since Malfoy is nowhere to be seen either, Harry takes a second look around the library, taking a better look at the paintings. And there in the corner of a scenic view he can see an old man, waving at him.

“Good even, sir.” Experience has taught Harry to be polite to old paintings, and he could curse himself for not asking the portraits at first.

The man in the picture looks dressed like the Muggles of the Medieval paintings Harry had seen once in a London museum, where Hermione dragged him. But what catches Harry's attention even more is the deep sadness written on the man's features.

“Good evening, young lad. Allow me to introduce myself. Cygnus Malfoy. At your service. ” The speech pattern doesn't sound Medieval but Harry remembers that advanced portrait charms adapt the pattern so that the listener understands it as compatible to his own.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Malfoy. My name is Harry Potter and I am a curse breaker.”

“A pleasure indeed, Mr Potter! If you can forgive my curiousness, you are searching for something specific and I believe, I might be able to help.”

Harry looks at the picture. “Forgive me, but how can a portrait help me?”

“Do you know how long I have been here? I was painted over 500 years ago and I have seen so much.”

“Malfoy Manor is _that old_?” Harry cannot keep the skepticism out of his voice, and the old man simply continues as if he hasn't heard him.

“The foundation is older than that even! Malfoy blood and tears have soaked the soil.” And there is something in the man's voice that makes Harry listen.

“You won't find anything in the books, because it isn't a curse that you are looking for. What you see here is a reflection.”

“A reflection.” Harry repeats.

“Yes. The first time I saw a house like this, I had just buried my wife and my children.”

Listening is the only thing Harry can offer and his heart feels heavy.

“The plague made no difference between Muggles and wizards, it killed us just like them. Do you have family, Mr Potter?” He finds himself pierced by grey eyes, so much like Draco's. And it hits Harry – the pain reflected in them is the same he'd seen in Draco's earlier.

“I loved my wife and my children, losing them...” Cygnus stops for a moment and Harry wants to reach out and comfort him, “something broke within me. When my wife was alive, the Manor was vibrant. She use to love bright colours and my children adored them, as well. But coming back inside after laying them to rest, all colours had turned to grey.”

“Did the house ever return to its original brightness?” Harry asks quietly.

“Well the grey achieved a little colour over the years that I remained within these walls.” Cygnus doesn't need to say what Harry can see in his face.

“Thank you.” Harry turns away, he doesn't need to know much more, but the unspoken words are hanging in the room.

_The Manor remained grey as long as I lived. A grey tinted with colour, but the grey prevailed_ .

\--------------------

The cold is seeping into Draco's bones and he stares unseeing. He doesn't know how long he's been there, letting his thoughts run freely as he waits. What is he waiting for? He doesn't really know. 

He hopes Potter can get rid of the boggart, but something deep in his gut tells him that the boggart is just the symptom, and not the cause. Still, he is no closer to finding a solution. So he continues to sit and wait until the house-elf appears, requesting him to return into the house.

His limbs are heavy and it is colder that Draco had thought. When he gets inside, Potter addresses him with a gentleness that is atypical. “The boggart is gone, but I would like to stay here for a little while longer, if you agree. Mippy has prepared a hot bath for you. I apologise for having kept you outside.” He gives Draco a soft smile and Draco notices that Potter has shadows under his eyes and his hand twitches as he talks. “I didn't realise how cold it had gotten. Your mum is back already and is resting in her room, and—”

“Potter.” Draco stops the rambling, yearning for the bath and his bed. “As I said before, you're welcome to stay in the guest wing. Mippy will show you to your room. And for Merlin’s sake, get some food into you. You look like death warmed over.”

He turns away and so misses the small smile that plays around Potter's lips. But he sleeps without a nightmare for the first time in ages and that is a small thing to feel grateful for.

\---------------

Harry sleeps fitfully during that night, he dreams of grey eyes and haunted smiles. Cygnus voice reverberates in his dreams and when he wakes he doesn't feel rested. Breakfast is a silent affair, but Narcissa bestows a hesitant smile upon him.

“Mr Potter, my son told me that you have succeeded in ridding us of the boggart?”

Harry smiles back, “Yes, Mrs Malfoy. The  _boggart_ is gone, but I fear the cause has not been solved yet. I am sure Draco has informed you already that I would like to stay with you for a while longer. If I don't indispose you too much?”

Now the smile that she is giving him is much brighter. “Mr Potter, you will always be welcomed here.”

Harry turns to Draco who regards him with caution. “I don't know why you would want to stay here but the room is yours as long as you want.”

Harry nods and that is that. Even though the Manor still feels off, Harry remains steadfast in his decision. It does help that Draco in his quiet dignity and efforts to return the house to his former glory makes something squirm inside of his stomach. Nobody should look this ridiculously attractive, while casting spells on walls.

\---------------

Weeks pass, and not much changes until everything changes at once.

Draco continues to work on the Manor with Potter help, and even though the walls are still drab and the roses still droop in the gardens, the air feels sweeter. His mother’s smile appears more often, and when Teddy plays with Potter in the garden, the house rings with laughter. Somehow Draco feels as if there is hope for the future.

For weeks now, Potter throws him furtive looks, but doesn’t do anything about it until Draco snaps under the pressure. “ What is it ? Do I have something on my face? Why do you keep staring at me?!”

Potter looks at him as if trying to see if he will explode further. When Draco turns away, he finds himself grabbed quite unceremoniously and shoved against the wall. Before he can complain, his mouth is occupied with warm chapped lips and  _surprisingly_ a very talented tongue. Something deep inside of him untangles and his arms wrap around Potter all on their own.

Later, much later, when breathing becomes an issue, Draco has to come up for air. At first, his oxygen deprived brain refuses to process what he sees on the wall directly behind Harry.

The softest hue of lilac is painted on it. 

It is the most beautiful colour he has ever seen, apart from the sparkling green eyes that are looking at him with fond exasperation.

And even though most walls are still grey, it is a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/105677.html).


End file.
